On the Rise
by Kyojiro Kagenuma
Summary: One year after the Emperor's assassination, the Dark Brotherhood has risen to infamy it has not known in centuries. With such prominence comes the need for new recruits. Young mage Arbelle Fane is one such recruit, having grown up an orphan in Riften's Ratway. When she slays a dangerous wizard in self defense, the Dark Brotherhood gives her an offer of a lifetime. AU: No DB Traitor
1. A Dark Sister is Born

Chapter One: A Dark Sister is Born

Down in the darkest depths of Riften's Ratway lived a young Breton by the name of Arbelle Fane, a cursed soul in every sense of the phrase. Once a daughter of a proud, well-off family, now condemned to scraping, stealing, and begging just to survive. Orphaned at the age of twelve, the woman had not known happiness in many a year. Long enough that she had forgotten a time when desperation, spite, and resentment had not ruled her soul. Hatred at the world that had wronged her and thrown her away to rot, that had turned her into what she was.

That anger, that undying hatred was what had kept her going so long, a faint, distant hope that one day she'd be able to exact her vengeance on her family's murderers, and the society that had long since abandoned her. That, and her magical pursuits. A talented destruction mage from birth, she was truly gifted, even for a Breton. The one blessing the Gods had given her, although her talent had done her little good without spell books to learn from, which of course were not free, nor were they a common sight to find lying around the cold, desolate halls of the Ratway.

When she was a child, Arbelle dreamed of becoming an esteemed mage in the College of Winterhold, achieving the same success her parents had before her. A dream that had once given her such hope and inspiration, but now only served to haunt her during the cold, sleepless nights. Lingering, painful thoughts of a better life, of what could have been. Guile had never been one of her gifts, nor had speechcraft, so the Thieves Guild had little use for her. Every once in a while she'd feed information to Vex or Mallory for a few septims, just to be shooed away moments later, cast back into filthy warrens like the rat they saw her as. All they saw was a lowlife, same as all the other insane ingrates and degenerates that swarmed that forsaken, stinking sewer. Not one of them saw her for what she truly was. The dark potential her hate-filled soul held. All they cared about was money, and Arbelle was useless in such matters, at least in regards to thievery. To other, even more sinister syndicates than the Thieves Guild, her magical gifts and hateful heart would be quite . . . invaluable.

One day, it was as if the Gods had finally done her a favor, albeit a small one. A few months prior, a paranoid, reclusive mage had moved into the Ratway, some stuck up Altmer. She didn't know his name, but then she didn't need to. No sane soul would ever willingly choose such a place as their home, so Arbelle deduced he was hiding from something, not that it was any concern of hers. Her only concern was his spell tomes she knew he was hoarding. She thought nothing of the risks, for she had nothing to lose and everything to gain. In that room lied power she had only dreamed of, power she was more than willing to risk her pathetic, desperate life for. This was a once in a lifetime opportunity, one she did not intend to pass by.

Arbelle had been watching his door for hours, just waiting for him to finally leave, to make her move. Arbelle watched from the shadows as the Altmer mage's door fumbled about, before opening to reveal the elf himself, mumbling incoherently to himself. Of course, he turned to lock his door before leaving. That was just fine. Arbelle had never been any good at lock picking, but there was more than one way through a door made of wood. Arbelle made sure the haughty wizard was gone, until the faintest echo of his footsteps had faded. Only then did Arbelle emerge from her hiding spot, eagerly rushing to the locked door. Taking a long, deep breathe, she raised both hands, open-palmed, and began to concentrate.

"Gods, please, don't ruin this for me."

Bursts of fire and flame flowed from her hands, soon engulfing the door. It was among the weakest of Destruction spells, but for a task as simple as this, it would suffice. What she was doing wasn't exactly subtle, however. The longer this act went on for, the higher the possibility she'd get caught. Before long, the door was nothing more than crumbling, burning piece of timber. Arbelle threw all her weight against the weakened structure, fighting back the pain from the searing heat of her own flames. Arbelle breached the door, breaking through to the other side and crashing to the cold stone floor. Coughing and hacking, she brushed herself off and climbed to her feet, taking a quick look at the now ruined door. Still on its hinges and locked in place, but with a human sized hole straight through the middle. Arbelle knew she couldn't waste any time, for someone would definitely had heard all that.

Her adrenaline was going wild, as she knew what she was doing could very likely mean her death. A blatant act of desperation from a woman with nothing left to lose. Any spell she found would be useful, but above everything, she was looking for Destruction tomes. For once, it seemed the Gods, or perhaps, darker forces, had finally smiled upon her. Sitting on the mage's desk, in plain sight before her eyes, was such a tome. Arbelle went straight for it, unable to help herself as she opened the book and to scan its contents. She could barely contain herself, for it had been precisely was she was looking for. A fireball spellbook, the staple of any self-respecting Destruction mage. Due to her natural talents, simply reading the words on the page were enough for her to gain an understanding of the spell, but as it would turn out, she would get an opportunity to test it out sooner than she would have hoped.

"What in Oblivion is this?" came a voice of outrage, one that sent chills down the young Breton's spine.

She had been caught, and she knew it. Chances were, she was about to die. She turned to see the furious wizard, her eyes widening in terror when she realized he was not alone. Two elves in gold gleaming armor stood at his side, and it soon became clear to Arbelle who exactly this mage was, and what exactly she had gotten herself into. She had just stolen from a Thalmor agent, most likely undercover. Of course, it had to be too good to be true.

"You thieving little guttersnipe! You'll pay dearly for this, worm!" the wizard cried, as the two Thalmor soldiers began to advance on her, swords drawn.

Arbelle raised both hands, a ball of fire soon cackling in her palms. It all came to her so easily, learning a spell to her was like child's play. Simply skimming the tome was enough for her to gain a basic understanding and execution of the spell. Upon seeing the flames, the Thalmor soldiers stopped in their tracks, knowing what they meant. They both looked to the other nervously.

"You fool! A fireball at this distance will scorch everyone in this room, including yourself!" the wizard claimed, taking a cautious step back.

Arbelle knew this was likely a suicide mission. If this day were to be the day she was finally granted sweet release from her miserable life, then she accepted it. In fact, she welcomed it. At least she would go out with a bang, and take three of the Thalmor agents down with her. Not all can claim such a feat. If she was going to die, then this was the way she wanted to go. Little did she know, they were all being watched by a dark, unseen presence.

"So be it. Say your last prayers, elf. Today, we leave this world together."

"No, no!"

Arbelle let loose the fireball, sending it hurdling at the Thalmor wizard. He raised a ward in desperate effort, but the fiery force was far too strong, shattering his feeble attempts at self-preservation and consuming his entire physical form. A flash of light from the impact blinded Arbelle, instinctively covering her face to shield her eyes as a wave of fire flooded the room in a hellish blaze. The last thing Arbelle remembered was the searing pain of her hands being scorched by the flames, before the force of the blast threw her to the ground and separated her from consciousness.

When Arbelle finally came to, she thought for sure she was dead. That this had to be the next world, and whatever it was, she welcomed it. She didn't care if it was a plane of Oblivion, for it could not have been worse than her previous existence. When she opened her eyes, and the world finally came into focus, she found herself staring up at the starry, tranquil sky. Sounds of wild nighttime animals and crickets flooded her senses, and the crisp cool mountain air washed over her face. Was this the Dreamsleeve she had her parents speak about all those years ago? Was this her afterlife? She certainly didn't feel dead. It wasn't long before the pain of her burnt hands returned, and she realized she was somehow, very much alive. Not only that, but she was no longer in the Ratway, or even Riften. She did her best to sit up, trying to get any kind of grip on her whereabouts.

"Ah, you're finally awake. I was beginning to wonder if I had dragged you out of those tunnels for nothing," came a feminine, unseen voice.

Arbelle turned to the source of the voice, seeing a woman in black robes sat by a cackling fire a few yards away. The light of the flames below illuminating her blue-gray skin and red eyes, distinct features of a Dunmer. Arbelle had no idea who this woman was, where she came from, or what she wanted, and she was still understandably on edge.

"Are you with the Thalmor?"

The woman just laughed softly, clearly amused by such a question.

"You think we'd be having this conversation if I was with the Thalmor? No, the organization I represent is much more, shall we say, open-minded?"

It was around this time Arbelle realized her hands and other burned parts of her body had been bandaged, and from what she could feel, her face was miraculously spared from the blast. The Dunmer woman stood up, making her way over to the injured Breton. She reached into her robes, revealing a small, pink bottle.

"Here, drink this," the woman said, offering Arbelle the container. "A health potion will help with the pain."

"Can I trust you?" Arbelle asked, hoping for a sincere response.

"Dear, sweet girl, of course you can," the woman claimed, a warm, comforting smile appearing on her face. "I've saved your life, after all."

"Yes, I noticed," Arbelle said as she took the health potion from the woman. "Why?" Arbelle asked, before downing the concoction in one gulp.

"You don't sound too happy about it," the Dark Elf responded curiously, walking back to her place at the fire.

"Believe it or not, but I was actually looking forward to dying. Life hasn't exactly been kind to me. My life has been nothing but disaster after disaster," Arbelle said back with a sigh, now sitting up as the potion did its job repairing her wounds.

"Are you a member of the Thieves Guild?" came the woman's sudden question.

Arbelle gave the Dunmer a bit a suspicious look at such a question, but saw no reason to answer dishonestly. The woman had done her nothing but good so far, and at the moment, she was the only person she could trust. For all Arbelle knew, the Thalmor were after her, and whatever this woman was, it certainly wasn't Thalmor.

"No, I don't have the skills to be a thief. I'm a vagrant. A lowlife. A pathetic creature to be pitied and spat upon," Arbelle seethed, her anger now reawakening as well.

"Oh, but you are so much more than that. You are a force of destruction. An agent of death. You roasted that insufferable Altmer like a cooked piece of meat. You have quite the talent, my dear."

Arbelle's face went blank for a moment. She had actually forgotten. She turned to the Dark Elf, an incredulous look on her face.

"I . . . I really killed him?"

"Oh yes, and his little two cohorts. All dead, by your hand."

Arbelle wasn't sure how to react to the news, her eyes drifting away as she pondered her the magnitude of her actions. Did this make her . . . a murderer?

"Were they your first?"

"What?" Arbelle asked, not seeing her meaning.

"Your first kills, were they?"

"Uhh . . . yeah," Arbelle stumbled, clearly out of sorts. "I'm sorry, who are you?"

The Dunmer woman flashed Arbelle another strangely soothing smile before answering.

"Can I ask you your name first, my child?"

"Uh, Arbelle," she answered, rather hesitantly.

"Well Arbelle, my name is Gabriella. I represent the Dark Brotherhood."

The words didn't register to Arbelle at first, it was only after a few seconds had passed did her meaning sink in. Her eyes grew wide as she realized this woman was playing no jest.

"The, the guild of murderers? Who killed the Emperor? That Dark Brotherhood?"

"Well, we're hardly something I would call as impersonal as a 'guild,' but to answer your question, yes. That Dark Brotherhood."

Arbelle felt as if her tongue was caught in her throat, like she could barely speak. The Thieves Guild were one thing, she had been in their presence before, but the Dark Brotherhood? They were a different animal entirely. Their business was murder. Assassination. A coalition of homicidal maniacs and cutthroats. Suddenly, Arbelle felt very afraid for her life, even if she had welcomed death not long before.

"Well, what do you want with me? Obviously if you wanted to kill me, I'd be dead. So . . . what is this? Why'd you help me?"

"Well, I guess you could call me something of a . . . talent scout. And I have to say Arbelle, I'm very impressed with your display."

"What? Wait, are you saying . . . what I think you're saying?" Arbelle asked, for she was no fool.

"You strike me as a person with not much to live for, and nothing to lose, being forced to live in that terrible, dreadful place. How would you like a real home? A place where you're appreciated, even loved? We could make great use of someone with your natural talents, of that I am sure. I know this is rather sudden, but I'd like to offer you a place in our family," Gabriella continued, making her proposition all the clearer.

"Me? In the Dark Brotherhood?" Arbelle was struck, to say the least.

"Oh yes, I'm quite good at finding worthy additions to our family. It's a gift, and I sense something in you, Arbelle. I know you're angry, I know you're desperate, I know you're looking for a purpose in life. I've been there myself. I know how it is to be alone in the world."

She had heard whispers among the Thieves Guild that the Dark Brotherhood was recruiting more than they had in years prior, and were on a dramatic rise to prominence once more, but for her to be a member of an organization of murderers? The thought seemed insane, but she quickly remembered she'd rather be dead than go back to that cursed Ratway. Here someone was offering her a way out, a chance at a better life. On one hand, she'd be a fool not to accept. On the other, it was the Dark Brotherhood. One could not pick a more sinister path. She had done plenty of things she wasn't proud of, and she certainly would have joined the Thieves Guild if she had the skills for it, but being a professional thief and being a professional assassin seemed worlds apart. Although, she had to admit, killing those three was easy for her. Something as monumental as taking a life, and she had shown little to no hesitation. She hadn't even thought about it. It shouldn't have been that easy, but it was. Perhaps darkness had truly crept into her heart long ago. Not to mention, anything was better than going back to Riften.

"I understand if this is a bit . . . overwhelming." Gabriella admitted. "I know it's a lot to take in, and I can't tell you much unless you accept, but I promise you, all will be revealed and explained."

Arbelle stared deeply into Gabriella's eyes, and strangely, even though she was speaking to an admitted murderer and cutthroat, she couldn't help but feel . . . relaxed. What reason did Gabriella have to lie to her? As odd as this all was, she saw nothing but sincerity in the assassin's eyes, and not only that, but even understanding. Like she knew all of Arbelle's pain without having been told, like Gabriella had seen it in her eyes. Arbelle couldn't believe she was about to do this, but something was telling her to take Gabriella at her word. To trust her. It's not like had some other viable alternative. It was either this, go back to Riften, or wander the wilderness until she starved to death or was killed by bandits or some wild animal. The more she thought about it, the more she realized the choice wasn't a hard one.

"Do you need time to think about it?" Gabriella asked rather courteously, "I certainly don't want you to rush to a."

"No, I don't need any more time," Arbelle said, abruptly cutting off her savior.

Arbelle turned to look Gabriella in the eye, a certain confidence in her voice she hadn't felt in longer than she could possibly remember. Her path would be a dark one, but she had given up any hope of a normal, honest life long ago. If it was her destiny to be a murderer, to be an assassin, then so be it. She was ready.

"My answer is yes. I will join the Dark Brotherhood," Arbelle said, hardly able to believe the words that were leaving her mouth.

Upon hearing Arbelle's decision, a pleased, welcoming smile soon overtook Gabriella, not even attempting to hide the joy she felt.

"Oh sister, I promise you, you will not regret this."


	2. Baptism of Fire

A few days later, Arbelle found herself in the ancient city of Windhelm, accompanying Gabriella on some vague task. She hadn't been too specific, and frankly at the moment Arbelle had little reason not to trust Gabriella, for she knew if the Dunmer meant her harm, she would have come to harm already. Everything in the past few days had happened so fast, she still found herself having trouble coming to terms with her sudden fate and the choices she had so hastily made. However, she was desperate for any way out of her previous, damnable life, even if that meant taking a chance and trusting a complete stranger. No fate could possibly be worse than being left to rot in forgotten depths of Riften's Ratway for the rest of her days. Gabriella had even supplied the young Breton with a fresh set of clothes to replace her old tattered rags. No matter where things went from here, her future was looking up.

Gabriella had found them a table on the second floor of Candlehearth Hall. Since reclaiming Skyrim from the Imperials, for the Empire had fallen into further chaos falling the assassination of their emperor, the place was more rowdy and celebratory than ever before. The Dark Elf bard played the classic "Age of Oppression," while a number of local Nords sung along to the beloved tune. Arbelle didn't care one way or another about their war, such matters were mere trifles to her. It's not like she had much time to ponder politics while starving half to death every night. Arbelle noticed Gabriella had barely looked at her the entire time, mostly keeping her eyes on the staircase leading to the floor.

"Care to tell me exactly what we're doing here?" Arbelle asked, yet trying her best not to sound impatient or ungrateful.

"Took you long enough to ask," Gabriella replied with an amused chuckle, showing she had been waiting for the question. "Before you can truly join our family Arbelle, I'm afraid I'll have to give you a bit of a test."

"A test? I thought you said I already showed I would be useful," Arbelle noted, suddenly feeling a bit worried and confused.

"You have, you have, but I need to know you have the stomach for our line of work. It's certainly not for everyone, even if they have talent."

"I . . . I see," said Arbelle, doing her best not to look nervous.

"I'm sure you'll do fine, I have a very good feeling about you. Honestly my dear, I think we were meant to find each other."

"Why would you say that?" Arbelle asked with a curious, mystified look.

"Shhh, here he is," Gabriella shushed Arbelle as a lumbering, clumsy figure appeared from the stairs.

"Here who is?" Arbelle asked, looking to the man in question.

He looked like a drunk dressed in rags, muttering something under his breath as he staggered into the room. Gabriella made sure her face was hidden by her hood as the drunk made his way past their table. He looked unimpressive, to say the least, so Arbelle didn't understand why Gabriella was so apparently interested in him.

"Who is that slob?" Arbelle asked when she was sure he was out of ear-shot.

"That charmer is known as Rolff Stone-Fist, a well-known lay about and bigot. He despises my people, the Dunmer, as well as the Argonians who work the docks in this city." Gabriella answered, looking a bit more relaxed now.

"So that's why you were covering your face," Arbelle deduced, although why she was looking for him was still unclear. "We're here for him? Why?"

"Simple, my dear, because you're going to end his miserable, wretched life," Gabriella said lowly, almost whispering to the Breton.

Arbelle stared back at the excited looking Gabriella, soon realizing she was as serious as serious can be. Arbelle could tell Gabriella hated the man with a passion, and why shouldn't she? The man was a bigot against her people, but was that the only reason?

"Why him? Just because he hates the Dunmer?" Arbelle inquired, stealing a look over in Rolff's direction.

He sat at a table alone, downing another bottle of mead, even though he was already so drunk he could barely walk a straight line. Arbelle had always disliked loud drunks, and there was no shortage of them in the Ratway, but a bigoted loud drunk? Arbelle had only been in his presence for less than a minute, and she already despised him.

"Scum like him I would love to kill for fun, but this will be business as well as pleasure," Gabriella replied, joining Arbelle's gaze in the drunkard's direction. "There's a contract out on Rolff, several actually. No shortage of people want that fool sent to the afterlife. Sadly, the contract's been lingering for a few months now. Most of us have been busy with more high-profile targets, what with all the business coming in now. The job doesn't pay much, so no one's taken it yet. That's where you come in, sister. Consider this your official initiation."

"Can any member of the Dark Brotherhood just recruit more members? How high up are you in the Dark Brotherhood, exactly?" Arbelle asked curiously, for Gabriella had described herself earlier as only a "talent scout."

"You are speaking to a member of the newly re-established Black Hand, the ruling council of the Dark Brotherhood, so yes, I can recruit whomever I wish."

Arbelle hadn't been aware of Gabriella's status until now. For someone of such high rank to be interested in her was both flattering and curious. Gabriella seemed particularly excited at the idea of recruiting Arbelle, and she couldn't help but wonder why. Not that she was about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

"So, uh, how should I handle this? Any advice? I mean I can't exactly just walk up to him and stick a fork in his eye, can I?" Arbelle asked in a sarcastic tone.

A smile appeared on Gabriella's face at the sweet, soothing thought.

"As satisfying as that would be to watch, such an act would only serve to get you killed. Fear not sister, I don't plan on abandoning you to your own devices on your very first contract. I happen to know of a perfect opportunity to strike out at Rolff. Every night, without fail, he goes down the Grey Quarter, a slum the Dark Elves are forced to live, and shouts insults and racial slurs at any Dunmer unfortunate enough to cross his path."

"Classy," Arbelle replied, growing to hate the Nord in question more and more by the moment. "How does that help me?"

"The Grey Quarter is dark and secluded, and everyone living there has had to put up with that vermin's insults and abuse. Even if they were to see you kill him, I doubt they'd be too eager to call the guards. They despise him."

"I'm guessing one of them is most likely responsible for the contract in the first place," Arbelle surmised, looking back to Gabriella now.

"Perhaps," Gabriella said with a telling grin. "I'm afraid all contract givers are assured full confidentiality, even to other members, due to . . . security reasons. Anyway, all you have to do is wait for him to leave, and I can almost guarantee you, his next stop will be that slum. That's where you strike."

"You'll sure he'll go there?"

"He goes down there every single night. If nothing else, at least the man is quite consistent," Gabriella said with a bit of a shrug.

"How long do you think I'll have to wait?" Arbelle asked, trying her best not to stare at Rolff much and draw unwanted attention.

"That, I cannot tell you. You'll just have to patient. Good luck, sister," Gabriella said as she rose up, beginning to depart.

Arbelle spun around in confusion and alarm.

"Wait, where are you going?"

"You can't expect me to hold your hand the whole way, can you? This is your show now," Gabriella asked, only adding to Arbelle's displeasure. "Don't worry, I'll be keeping a close eye on you. You won't see me, but I'll be watching, and admiring."

With that, Gabriella left Arbelle's presence down the same stairs Rolff had emerged from moments before. Arbelle actually found Gabriella surprisingly personable, especially for a homicidal cutthroat. She wondered if all Dark Brotherhood members were this way, unnerving, yet somehow strangely charming. She supposed she'd be finding out soon enough, provided she lived that long. Arbelle turned back to Rolff now, suddenly a lot more nervous than before. She had to keep her nerve, otherwise her life in the Dark Brotherhood would be over before it began. If she botched this opportunity, she knew she wouldn't be getting another one.

Arbelle wasn't sure how long she had been waiting, after a while she began to lose track of time. The only thing that mattered was keeping her eye on Rolff. Thankfully, he was too drunk and everyone else was too distracted to realize she was constantly looking back over to him. Time was beginning to drag agonizingly slowly, and almost like waiting for your own impending death, or in this case, someone else's. When Rolff finally stood up from his chair, Arbelle's heart practically burst from her chest. She kept her cool as best she could, letting Rolff pass her by before turning after him. Hopefully he would make no stops, and just head right over to the Gray Quarter like Gabriella said. Speaking of which, Arbelle desperately hoped Gabriella would help with the escape, because after killing Rolff she wouldn't have the slightest clue what to do, other than just make a break for it. She wondered how Gabriella would be watching her, for she was certainly nowhere in sight. For all Arbelle knew, Gabriella could have been setting her up for a fall, but something told her to keep the faith and trust her.

Arbelle made sure to keep her distance from Rolff as he exited Candlehearth Hall, yet at the same time keep him in sight. Arbelle had never been two Windhelm before, so to her this city was so alien it might as well have been a plane of Oblivion. She wasn't used to it being this cold. She could feel the chill in her bones as the freezing winds just swept straight through her body. In such a late hour of the night, the streets were mostly abandoned by the common folk, so hopefully there wouldn't be any witnesses. Arbelle's mind was going in six directions at once as Rolff turned down some stairs to a lower, more decrepit part of the city, which Arbelle assumed had to be the slum Gabriella had spoken of. At least things were going to plan so far. All that was left now was for Arbelle to keep her nerve to actually do the deed. She was nervous, of that there was no doubt, but that wasn't all. There was a sense of eagerness. Excitement. A rush of blood and emotion was building up inside with each second she edged closer to the kill. She knew she had been given an easy first contract, but there was still plenty of ways to screw this up if she wasn't careful. Rolff was far too drunk to even notice Arbelle's presence, let alone realize she had been following him. Now that he was firmly in the depths of the Gray Quarter, the shouts and insults began pouring from his ugly, wretched mouth.

"Dirty, filthy gray-skins! Go back to Morrowind! Alla yous!" Rolff shouted into the empty streets, slurring his words quite badly.

"A true charmer," Arbelle said quietly, echoing Gabriella's words.

At the moment there was no one on the streets with them, but that could have changed at any moment. She had built herself up long enough. The more time she wasted, the worse off she'd be. She needed to get this done and over with. For her new life to start, this man needed to die. For Arbelle, after all that she had suffered, it was an easy choice. She ahd already killed before, and she could do it again. She was nervous, yet not afraid. She had been soaking up punishment and abuse from fools like Rolff her whole damn life. Now it was time to retrun the favor. To give it all back, in spades. In fire and blood.

An intense heat began crackling in Arbelle's hands. Rolff must have heard the sound of the nearby spell, for he turned in Arbelle's direction.

"Hey, you're not a gray-skin. What, what're ya doin' here in this pisshole?" Rolff asked, not seeming to register the deadly spell about to be unleashed upon him.

Arbelle didn't even flinch. She was locked in and the words came to her as naturally as death itself.

"I'm here for you, Rolff. For your blood, and your soul."

Before Rolff could muster a response, Arbelle let the spell fly, straight into Rolff's chest. The ignorant Nords' life was extinguished ina n instant when the inferno consumed his being, silencing the bigot forever. Arbelle should have run the moment she had done the deed, but she found herself unable to look away from the charred, still carcass Rolff had been reduced to. Admiring her work. Reveling in the moment. For the first time in years she felt alive, like she had finally found her life's true purpose. It was a glorious feeling, and she already wanted more.

Arbelle was snapped from her trance when an unseen force grabbed her and pulled her away from the scene. Seconds later she heard a startling shock, for the body had no doubt been discovered. Suddenly Arbelle found herself running alongside Gabriella, who had pulled her from the fire just as she said she would. There would be time to talk later, for now the only thing that mattered was escaping the city. The city gates were slightly ajar, and no guards to watch them. Obviously Gabriella's handiwork, Arbelle thought. The gate guards had either been paid off, run off, or killed off. Arbelle and Gabriella slipped past the doors and out of the city like clockwork, but they didn't stop running until they were over the bridge. When the two were sure they were out of danger, they stopped for a moment to catch their breaths.

"By Sithis girl, you could've been a bit more discreet," Gabriella said, although clearly more amused than annoyed.

"You said dead, not discreet," Arbelle said back between breaths, managing an audible laugh. "That was fun, real fun," Arbelle admitted, looking back at Gabriella with eager eyes. "So, am I in?"

"Oh yes, you're definitely in," Gabriella replied with a sly grin. "You were born for this my girl, I can see it in your eyes. I think you'll go far with us, very far. Welcome to the family."


	3. Welcome Home

In the last week or so, Arbelle and Gabriella had travelled through nearly half the province of Skyrim. Most likely a normal occurrence for Gabriella, but Arbelle hadn't travelled this much since she was a child, long before her stay in Riften's Ratway, which would no doubt go down as the lowest point of her life. After fleeing Windhelm, the two had cut west, but keeping to the Northern part of Skyrim. According to Gabriella, their destination was a Dark Brotherhood "sanctuary" near Dawnstar, which Arbelle surmised was a fancy word for hideout. This, she was told, would be her new home. Arbelle wasn't quite sure what to expect, and Gabriella seemed to revel in her little surprises, so she figured asking her would be pointless. She just hoped they were getting close, for the idea of a warm bed in a place she could call home had been a lost dream to her. Her life had taken such a strange turn, joining the Dark Brotherhood, but somehow it felt right. It was certainly better than starving to death, although she couldn't imagine her parents would approve if they were alive to see her. As for her sister, wherever she was, Arbelle wasn't sure what she would think. She could only hope that she was still alive somewhere, and one day they'd be reunited, one way or another.

Arbelle had stolen her own horse somewhere between Windhelm and Dawnstar, for murder horse theft seemed trivial after committing murder. Arbelle had never seen the town of Dawnstar before, and she wouldn't today either. Gabriella led Arbelle along the coastline, just mere feet from the cold waters of the Sea of Ghosts. They turned a corner, and as the wicked, infamous Black Door finally came into view, Arbelle knew right away they had arrived. It was magical, of that Arbelle was certain, but far beyond any mortal powers. No, there was an otherworldly aura to the door, yet not Daedric either. Something altogether different. The bloody hand design imprinted on the skull carving wasn't exactly subtle, and gave no illusions to the dark forces that crept inside.

"Isn't this a bit . . . obvious for a group of assassins?" Arbelle asked, already fearing discovery.

"The local Nords are very superstitious, and with the draugur infesting every crypt, I can certainly see why. The black door is a cursed legend, something that no sane person would ever go near," Gabriella claimed, dismounting her horse to approach the familiar, imposing stone door. "Besides, the door is magically sealed. Only someone with the passphrase can open it."

"Passphrase? But there's no one out here to tell a passphrase to," Arbelle noted, looking around area once more to be sure she wasn't mistaken.

Gabriella only snickered, as if amused by Arbelle's innocent ignorance.

"Just watch, sister," Gabriella said mysteriously, now standing directly in front of the ominous passage.

Arbelle jumped when the voice echoed from seemingly nowhere. An inhuman, chilling voice speaking from the Void itself.

"_What is life's greatest illusion?" _

"Innocence, my brother," Gabriella answered simply and without hesitation.

"_Welcome home." _

With that, the once sealed door swung ajar, now giving way to the unknown. Arbelle stared on in wonder, mystified by the supernatural entities entwined within the Dark Brotherhood.

"That phrase is the only way to open this door sister, so make sure to remember it."

"Who was that?" Arbelle asked, dismounting her own horse.

"I haven't the slightest idea, honestly. No one does. Perhaps Sithis himself, or perhaps an extension of his will. In the Dark Brotherhood, very little is clear as day."

"There's that name again, Sithis. Who is he?" Arbelle asked again, infinitely curious, and rightly so.

"I'm afraid that's a complicated question, and I'd rather not explain it out here. For now, just now that Sithis is our Dread Father. A silent, formless being that watches over all of us. He is not Daedra, nor is he Divine. There's a good amount of information on the subject inside, if you're interested in some light reading," Gabriella explained, leaving Arbelle with far more questions than answers.

"This all sounds so strange," Arbelle replied with an exasperated sigh.

Arbelle followed Gabriella through the door, bracing herself for whatever lied in wait.

"So, who's in charge here?"

"That would be me, actually. I've been the mistress of this sanctuary ever since we revived it a few weeks ago. This sanctuary is ancient, but we only started using it again rather recently."

"Wha t? You?" Arbelle stopped in her tracks, looking even more dumbfounded than before.

Gabriella stopped as well, once again seeming amused.

"Don't look so shocked sister, I might take offense."

Gabriella had mentioned she was a member of the "Black Hand," whatever that was.

She would definitely have to do some research on all this whenever she got the chance. If she was going to be a member of this organization, she'd have to be a lot more educated than she was.

"That's right, you're already friends with the sanctuary's mistress. Aren't you the lucky one?" Gabriella smirked, turning around to continue onwards.

The two women stepped into the ancient stone halls, and Arbelle couldn't help but notice they seemed to be the only ones in there, at least from what she could see. The whole place was silent as the grave as well. Where was everybody?

"Now, the place is still a bit barren," Gabriella began, giving the place a good look over herself. "We only moved in a few weeks ago, and we're still getting the place set up. New banners, non-disintegrated furniture, beds that aren't a hundred years old, that kind of thing. It's a work in progress. Our old sanctuary in Falkreath was getting crowded, so three of us were sent here to re-establish ourselves in the North, so we could recruit even more to our numbers. You, Arbelle, are my very first recruit."

"Me? Really?" Arbelle repeated, feeling even more flattered than before. "So wait, there's only three of you here?"  
"Well, four now, including you. I'm not sure if Babette or Festus are here at the moment, but uh, Cicero is always capering around, somewhere. Chances are you'll probably hear him before you see him."

"And why is that?" Arbelle inquired, raising an eyebrow to Gabriella's odd description.

"Let's just say Cicero is very . . . unique. He stands out, and in a group like ours, well, that certainly means quite a lot. Describing him would be in vain, you'd be better off just meeting him for yourself."

Gabriella and Arbelle continued deeper into the sanctuary, eventually coming to a small hall overlooking what appeared to be a dining hall, with metal bars separating the two areas as a sort of railing. Both areas, like the one before it, were devoid of life and activity, all except one tragically jubilant soul. The sound of his dancing shoes clamored down the hall as he sprang into the room, for he had heard the sound of someone entering, and of course the dear Night Mother needed tending to as well. When Arbelle first laid eyes on the strange little man, she couldn't help but be confused. What need did the Dark Brotherhood have for a jester? Gabriella let out a chuckle, clearly entertained by Arbelle's awed expression.

"Oh, Mistress! Hello! Hello!" Cicero greeted the Dunmer woman, approaching the pair that was more akin to a skip than a simple walk.

"Hello Cicero, I trust you and the Night Mother have been faring well since my departure?"

"Oh yes Mistress, very well! Very well indeed! It can get quite a bit lonely here at times, but Cicero is certainly no stranger to solitude!" Cicero claimed, a high-pitched, piercing laugh soon to follow.

To say Arbelle was baffled by Cicero would be something of an understatement. Ten seconds of knowing him, and she could tell that even a hatter would appear sane standing next to him. Between the constant cackling, cartoonish voice, and referring to himself in the third person, it was quite clear Cicero was not only a jester, but a madman as well. Arbelle couldn't help but wonder, was he truly once a jester that turned to assassination? Or simply a tortured soul long driven insane? If Arbelle had been condemned to the Ratway for very much longer, she supposed she might not be far behind in that respect.

"And who is this?" Cicero said, suddenly jerking his head in the direction of Arbelle, his wild, colorful eyes startling her a bit. "A new sister, perhaps? Oh, of course he is? What else could she be? Sily, silly Cicero!"

While the mad jester never failed to entertain Gabriella, she noticed Arbelle was left speechless in the face of the clown, feeling more than a bit uneasy. She honestly had no idea what to say or how to respond, and looked to Gabriella in pure desperation. Thankfully, Gabriella picked up on the mental plea.

"Indeed," Gabriella said, answering Cicero for her sister. "Cicero, this is Arbelle Fane. She's quite the talented Destruction mage, if not a bit limited in her spell choice. She should be a fine addition to the Brotherhood, and I must admit I've taken quite a liking to her. I hope you will as well."

Arbelle didn't bother mentioning that fireball was one of the only spells she knew, for she didn't want to expose herself as lacking. She'd be learning a plethora of new spells soon enough, of that she was sure. That is, if she lived long enough in this dangerous new lifestyle she had chosen, but Arbelle was no stranger to survival.

"Arbelle," Gabriella began, now turning her attention to her newest sister. "This delightful character is Cicero, who holds a very special position in our family. The Keeper of the Night Mother herself."

"The what of the who?" Arbelle asked, completely and utterly lost.

"Who is the Night Mother? Who is the Night Mother?" Cicero repeated, almost shouting, seemingly astounded at Arbelle's ignorance.

"Go easy on her, Cicero. She just got here. You can't expect her to be as knowledgeable as yourself already," Gabriella turned to Arbelle once more. "The Night Mother is our Unholy Matron, and the Bride of Sithis. It is from her ancient womb that the Dark Brotherhood was born, and to this day, she guides our family from the Void."

Arbelle didn't know how to reply to something so outlandish sounding, but she wasn't about to doubt Gabriella or her claims. If the Daedra and the Divines could exist, then Sithis and the Night Mother certainly could as well. Still, she hadn't realized the Dark Brotherhood was such a religious organization. She was under the impression it was more akin to the Thieves Guild, but so far it seemed more like a sinister cult that killed in the name of their otherworldly masters. She felt like a fish out of water, being so ignorant and in such an unfamiliar place. She'd have to do some reading, for she had not only joined a new organization, but a new religion as well. She had never been the religious type, but it appeared that was about to change.

"Cicero is in charge of tending to the Night Mother, keeping her in the most pristine of conditions. A prestigious role, to be certain," Gabriella quickly summarized, doing her best not to speak of the more tedious nature of Cicero's position, for he was no longer able to carry out contracts.

"Wait, the Night Mother is here?" Arbelle asked, for they described her as a goddess or spirit, not a physical being in the mortal world.

"Oh yes, yes she is! She's right over here! Come and see!" Cicero claimed enthusiastically, suddenly taking Arbelle by the hand and leading her in another direction.

Arbelle was clearly uncomfortable, but she didn't want to upset the madman. Besides, she'd be lying if she said she wasn't curious. Was the Night Mother some living goddess? What supernatural powers did she possess? Gabriella followed after the two to make sure Cicero didn't go too far. He did have a tendency to do that. Cicero didn't have to bring Arbelle far, as the Night Mother was just around the corner. Upon seeing the enormous, ominous coffin and its contents, Arbelle came to a startling revelation. The Night Mother was an ancient, decomposed corpse, nearly skeletal in nature, and it was only through constant preservation efforts that she even looked that well. Arbelle refrained from voicing her initial disgust, but the look on her face was unmistakable.

"Behold, the Unholy Matron!" Cicero exclaimed, presenting her as some sort of esteemed trophy. "Decades ago, most members of the Brotherhood would go their entire lives without seeing her, so consider yourself lucky, dearest sister!"

"Why not?" Arbelle asked as Gabriella approached from behind.

"The Night Mother used to have a resting place in Cyrodill, but then the Empire fell into chaos after the Great War. The Night Mother's resting place was defiled and destroyed, but the Night Mother herself was saved. Until we can find a new home for her, she must join us at our sanctuaries," Gabriella explained, using information she had gained from Cicero himself. "She used to be at our sanctuary in Falkreath, but . . . well, let's just say Cicero and the mistress over there, Astrid, don't exactly get along, to say the least. Wherever Cicero goes, the Night Mother goes as well, so here she is."

"I see," Arbelle said, still trying to take this all in. "So . . . she just sits here? I can't imagine she does much, she is a corpse after all."

"Oh no, no! The Night Mother does much more than that! Her word is our command!" Cicero claimed, only confusing Arbelle further.

"Her word? She can speak?"

"Yes! But not to me, or you, or anyone! Except the Listener! The Night Mother speaks only to the Listener!"

Arbelle, again, just stared blankly at Cicero, until Gabriella spoke up.

"The Listener is the highest ranking member of our family, and the only one the Night Mother speaks to. Similar to how a Daedric Prince sometimes speaks to their disciples."

Arbelle was clearly overwhelmed by this influx of information, and while the giddy Cicero was oblivious, Gabriella could tell the young assassin need a break to collect her thoughts.

"Alright Cicero, I think that's enough education for now. Let our new sister settle in before bombarding her again," Gabriella said, leading Arbelle away from the coffin. "Farewell for now, brother."

"Oh yes, goodbye! Goodbye!" Cicero called out to them, before turning to the Night Mother to resume his duties.

"He's an absolute lunatic," Arbelle claimed as she was led away, albeit softly so only Gabriella could hear.

"Oh yes, he's absolutely mad, but I must admit, I find him quite endearing, and there's not a more loyal soul in all the Dark Brotherhood. But enough about Cicero, you'll have plenty of time to get to know him later."

Arbelle and Gabriella left the joyous jester behind, venturing further into the sanctuary. Past the barren grand dining table and the ominous painted glass window, and down the hall, until they reached the bedchamber, by far the location Arbelle was most interested in. She was consumed with relief just upon seeing an actual bed, as it had quite literally been years since she slept in one.

"Here we are. The beds aren't assigned, so whenever you're tired, just pick the closest bed."

And Arbelle was ready to do just that. She was just about to fall into a bed, but Gabriella wasn't quite finished.

"One more thing before you rest, sister."

Arbelle let out an exasperated sigh, but turned to face Gabriella. The way Arbelle saw it, she was eternally in Gabriella's debt for providing her with this opportunity, and the last thing she wanted to do was appear ungrateful.

"Yes, Mistress?"

"It's important to note that while we are assassins and murderers, we still have rules. Strict ones, as a matter of fact, and strict adherence to them are paramount to our continued survival. Until recently, these rules had been largely abandoned until recently, but since the assassination of the Emperor and our resurgence, we have begun a return to the old ways," Gabriella affirmed, sounding quite thankful of that fact. "The rules, known as the Five Tenets, are posted throughout the walls of the Sanctuary. Be sure to familiarize yourself with them as soon as possible. Violation of any of them will result in immediate suspension from the Dark Brotherhood, and the only back in is through a particularly dangerous trial, so keep that in mind."

"Got it," Arbelle said with an understanding nod.

"Alright, that's it, at least for now. Come find me when you wake up, and we can discuss your first real assignment. I've got plenty of work. Plenty of souls that need to be sent to Sithis, but that's for later. For now, sweet dreams sister. I'll see you in the morning."

With that, Gabriella finally departed, heading back in the direction she came. The exhausted Arbelle breathed a sigh of relief, almost falling into whatever bed was closest. The bed itself was average at best, but to Arbelle it may as well have been a cloud. Despite being in a den of professional assassins, she could finally rest without fear of being killed in her sleep. Against all odds, she had persevered, and escaped her fate in the depths of the Ratway. No longer would she be a filthy, desperate beggar, never knowing when her next meal would be. Finally, she had a home once more. A place to live, develop her magical prowess, and most of all, an opportunity to reveal those responsible for the destruction of her life, and not only take their lives, but everything they held dear. She wanted revenge on those who had wronged her, and if she had to watch the whole world burn to make it happen, she would do it gladly.


	4. Meeting the Family

The nightmares that often plagues Arbelle's sleep had mercifully relented, at least that night. For the first time in a very long time, the young Breton had slept well, and awakened fully rested. She had almost forgotten what a good night's rest felt like. She almost expected to wake back up in Riften's Ratway, the past week or so only a mere dream that was far too good to be true. She had almost forgotten where she was, at least at first. Sketchy, scattered images of a broken dream soon faded into her subconscious as the world came back into focus. When she laid eyes on the unmistakable Black Hand banner, it all came flooding back to her in a matter of seconds.

She rose from her bed with an audible yawn, almost instantly feeling an empty, aching feeling in her stomach. Surely there had to be something to eat somewhere. A quick look around revealed there wasn't anyone around to ask, so she'd have to do a bit of exploring. She most definitely didn't know her way around yet, so her getting lost at some point was almost inevitable. It wasn't long before she realized she wasn't even sure where to find Gabriella, but she supposed she'd run into her eventually. She retraced the steps her and Gabriella had taken the previous night as best she could. It was certainly cold, the sanctuary being in Dawnstar and all, but Arbelle knew better than to complain about it.

She made her way past the practice room and into the dining hall. What lied in wait for her seemed to defy all and any explanation. In the dining room was but one soul, quietly enjoying her breakfast. She hadn't seemed to notice Arbelle yet, but Arbelle had certainly taken note of her. Unless her eyes were deceiving her, or this was some sort of elaborate illusion, there sat a small child, a girl, no older than ten or eleven. In the Dark Brotherhood sanctuary. A guild of killers, and cutthroats. Arbelle couldn't even process what she was looking at, so she just stood there, unsure of what to do or say. She thought a jester was strange, but a child? Was this girl a daughter of another member? Eventually, the girl noticed another presence in the room, turning in Arbelle's direction.

"Ah, my newest sister. Arbelle, isn't it? I was wondering when you'd wake up. Come on, don't be shy, you must be hungry," the child offered with a welcoming smile.

It was then Arbelle saw the child's eyes, their glowing, inhuman nature. A hunger that could only be described as predatory. This was no normal little girl.

"What are you?" Arbelle asked bluntly, approaching cautiously.

"Ah, you're more observant than most. You realized something was wrong right away," the child said, clearly impressed. "Believe it or not, but I'm most likely the oldest living being you've ever spoken to. I haven't really been a little girl since I was bitten by a vampire, over 200 years ago."

"A child vampire? Really?" Arbelle inquired, for she had never heard of such a thing before, not that she had ever met any vampires herself.

"That's right, the name's Babette. If you're ever in need of ingredients or potions, I'm the one to see. If I don't have it on hand, I'm sure I can make it for you, for a price that is. Potions, poisons, whatever your wicked heart desires."

An interesting proposal indeed. Certainly something to keep in mind.

"But never mind all that for now, please take a seat. You must be hungry," Babette offered, gesturing to the table. "And I suppose I wouldn't mind learning more about you. Gabriella has told me quite the tale already."

Babette had read Arbelle's mind, for she was positively famished. Thankfully, Babette had already made up some freshly cooked food Arbelle imagined was far too much for someone of her size, as if she had anticipated Arbelle's company. She couldn't imagine this kind of treatment among comrades who barely knew each other in say the Thieves Guild, for half the time it seemed they treated their own members poorly. Arbelle helped herself to a piece of bread and some cooked meat. She wasn't even sure what meat it was, and frankly she didn't care. Babette let Arbelle eat a bit before inquiring further.

"So, Gabriella tells me you're quite the talented mage. Killed three Thalmor agents with one fireball, isn't that right?" Babette asked once Arbelle had settled herself.

"I suppose I did," Arbelle replied, still rather amazed at the deed herself. "Still doesn't seem real to me."

"I'm not going to ask how you wound up in such a desperate position, we all have pasts we're not proud of. I just hope that one day you'll—."

"Babette! Where are you, you little she devil?" came a sudden, ornery voice.

Arbelle and Babette both turned to see an elderly Breton man enter the room, followed quickly by an audible sigh from Babette. It seemed as if she had seen this coming.

"Good morning, Festus."

The man called Festus disregarded her sarcastic greeting, at the same time paying no attention to Arbelle.

"You've been borrowing more of my ingredients again with asking, haven't you? I distinctly remember having some vampire dust stored away, now it's gone, and I certainly didn't use it!"

"I ran out and I needed some to complete my concoction, I was going to tell you, I swear. I'll give you the gold as soon as I'm done here, and I'm sure Gabriella has some lying around," Babette said in her own defense.

Festus was the first person Arbelle had met so far who didn't seem to be immediately friendly, but perhaps he was just in a sour mood.

"Perhaps I should throw you in the fire pit and collect what's left of you! That would certainly solve my problem, for all the good you do around here," Festus grumbled before turning towards the stairs.

"Uh, Festus, we have a new sister, in case you haven't noticed," Babette said to his back, finally drawing attention to Arbelle.

"Hm?" Festus asked, turning to see Arbelle, who had been so far been silent. "Oh yes, yes, the newest member of the family. Tell you what girl, if you're still alive in a month, maybe we'll have something to talk about. Until then, don't bother me," Festus said grumpily, before huffing back off in the direction he came, lowly mumbling to himself.

"That was Festus Krex. Think of him as the angry grandfather of our little family," Babette said, turning back to Arbelle with a bit of a tired look. "Don't mind his attitude, he doesn't mean anything by it. It's just how he is. He's a brilliant destruction mage, so I'd figure he could teach you a thing or to when he finally warms up to you, assuming of course you live that long."

"Krex, you say?" Arbelle echoed his last name, for it rang a faint bell in her foggiest memories, but a clear image was just out of reach. "Why does that sound so familiar?"

"Have you read the Tenets yet?" Babette asked, cutting off Arbelle's train of thought. "Every new member needs to learn them, now that we'll enforcing them again."

"Gabriella said something about that, but it slipped my mind," Arbelle said honestly, giving up on trying to remember where she had the name "Krex."

"I could tell you them, if you want. There's only five of them after all, and they're rather straightforward, but it _is _important you know them."

"Alright, sure," Arbelle said, listening intently.

Babette had memorized the Tenets long ago, and simply had never forgotten them. She was able to recite each and every one like it was her own name.

"Tenet one, never dishonor the Night Mother. Don't ever question her will, never insult her, don't defile her remains, none of that," Babette claimed, before taking a sip of water to refresh her throat. "Second, pretty easy one. Never betray the Brotherhood or its secrets. If you screw that one up you were never much of a Dark Sister to begin with. Three, never disobey an order from a superior, and to you that means just about everyone. Four, never still from a member of the Brotherhood, and five, never kill a member of the Brotherhood. All these offenses invoke the Wrath of Sithis, which is something you certainly don't want to do."

"What's the Wrath of Sithis?" Arbelle inquired, knowing by its ominous name it could be nothing good.

"A dark, vengeful spirit. A relentless force of otherworldly origins. If you break any of these rules, you will be banished from the Brotherhood, and you won't be allowed back in until you vanquish the spirit. It's not a position you ever want to put yourself in."

"I see," Arbelle said, trying to take that all in.

She still wasn't exactly sure what the Wrath of Sithis was based on that description, but she was sure she never wanted to find out. She certainly hadn't planned on being disloyal, but now she had some incentive to be extra careful. After Arbelle had eaten her fill of food, she remembered she couldn't sit around and socialize with Babette all day long, for her new mistress was expecting her.

"As much as I would love to stay and chat, I think Gabriella is waiting for me," Arbelle announced, before rising up to begin her departure. "Any idea where she might be?"

"Upstairs, to the left, sitting by the garden. You can't miss her. So long, sister. Have fun on your next contract, and try not to die," Babette said with a cheery, yet unnerving smile.

"Thanks," Arbelle said, brushing off the rather ominous goodbye.

With that, Arbelle left Babette alone in the dining room, making her way up the nearby staircase and leaving the vampire child behind. Halfway up the steps she could already hear voices. Two, a male and female. One was Gabriella's, but the other was unknown to her.

"So, you're sure about this girl?" came the man's sharp, raspy voice.

"Quite sure. She may lack experience, but it's been a long time since I've witnessed such raw magical power from someone who's little more than a novice. I do believe she is quite the prodigy, although I have to say, she's not very subtle," came Gabriella's softer, smoother voice, standing in a very sharp contrast to her companion.

It soon dawned upon Arbelle that the pair were speaking of her and her abilities. Gabriella continued to praise Arbelle, a generosity the woman herself still wasn't quite sure she deserved. She pressed on, although a bit more hesitant and cautious than before. Reaching the top of the stairs, she turned the corner to see Gabriella sitting at a small table by the garden, while a tall Imperial stood a few feet away. Her presence was noticed immediately.

"Ah, here she is now. Arbelle, come closer sister, I'd like you to meet someone," Gabriella beckoned, extending her hand towards the young Breton.

Arbelle approached slowly, keeping her eyes on the unknown Imperial, who stared back intently, as if analyzing her from top to bottom.

"Arbelle, this is Cassius, the Listener of the Dark Brotherhood. Our esteemed leader, and the Night Mother's only connection to our mortal world," Gabriella claimed, now looking to the Imperial. "Cassius, this is Arbelle Fane, our newest initiate. I found her rotting away in the Ratway of all places. Incredible what little treasures you'll find in the most unlikely of pleasures."

"Yes, one can hardly imagine," Cassius concurred, not taking his eyes off the young mage.

"It's an honor to meet you, Listener," Arbelle said simply, unsure if there was some physical etiquette like bowing, or something similar.

"I can hear your heart beating from here, girl. Calm down, you're one of the few people on this earth with no reason to fear me."

"Sister, the Listener is the head of our family, second only to the Night Mother herself, so make sure to heed his every word," Gabriella explained.

"What about Sithis?" Arbelle inquired, looking a bit puzzled.

"Sithis is not a single, sentient being. He does not lead us directly, although we do believe the Night Mother's will is his own."

"I'm afraid I don't follow, what exactly is Sithis?" Arbelle asked, still frustratingly lost.

"You're asking for a clear image of a formless being," Cassius interjected, quickly drawing Arbelle's attention. "The question you ask has no one answer, for Sithis is both everything and nothing. He dwells inside all of us. He is the last breath your victims take before they leave this life. He is the gleam in your eye when you strike a soul down in his name. He is the silence that fills the air after a fresh kill. That is Sithis. Understand?"

Arbelle gave an anxious nod, for she hadn't anticipated coming face to face with the highest ranking member of the whole Brotherhood. She didn't want to appear weak, but to stand in the presence of such an imposing figure would be daunting to any soul. From what she had just heard, Sithis was the most abstract, vague being she had ever heard of, but she dared not doubt a word of it. She had no reason not to believe it. Clearly, there were greater powers at play in this society. She merely wished to better understand the Brotherhood's beliefs, not question or doubt them.

"I'm sorry, Listener. I meant no offense."

"None taken sister, and Cassius will do just fine," the man said, turning to Gabriella once more. "Well, I'm afraid I must be off. I'm a very busy man. You've done an admirable job so far, Gabriella. I trust you'll keep up the good work."

Gabriella merely nodded, wearing a satisfied smile due to her efforts being recognized.

"And you," Cassius turned back to Arbelle suddenly, startling the young mage a bit. "Gabriella has put quite a lot of faith you. Don't disappoint her, or me."

Arbelle remained silent as the Listener turned away towards the exit.

"Sithis guide you, sisters."

"Sithis guide you, brother," Gabriella repeated the phrase, watching her leader depart the sanctuary. "Well done, sister. I think he likes you," Gabriella claimed, looking back to her new initiate.

"Really? How can you tell?" Arbelle asked, for the man seemed near impossible to read.

"I know him well enough. He's a subtle man, but I can tell when he's pleased and when he's not. Anyway, enough about Cassius, you'll have plenty of time to get to know him later. Sit down, sister. We have much to discuss."

Now feeling a bit more relaxed, Arbelle took a seat opposite to Gabriella at the small table. Gabriella reached into her robe, taking out a moderately large sack of gold, and placed it on the table in front of Arbelle. The young Breton looked at the sack quizzically, then back to her mistress.

"What's that?"

"Your pay, of course. For assassinating Rolff Stone-Fist?" Gabriella reminded her with that knowing smile of hers.

"Oh, right. Of course," Arbelle said back.

Honestly, she wasn't expecting to get a reward for her initiation. She was happy enough to be in the family at all.

"The contract on Rolff was three-hundred septims. It's not much, but what do you expect for such an insignificant worm?" Gabriella said, nudging the sack of gold in Arbelle's direction. "Take it, it's yours. It's a decent enough start, I suppose."

Arbelle hastily took the bag from the table, as if Gabriella would snatch it away. Arbelle had been absolutely destitute for a long time, and it showed. To her, 300 septims was a fortune. The idea that she was actually holding that amount in her hands was almost unbelievable to her, and to just about anyone else, it would be a moderate sum at best.

"You have no idea how much this means to me," Arbelle said, and she absolutely meant it.

She had never been this thankful for something in her entire life. The amount of kindness she had received from the Dark Brotherhood so far, especially Gabriella, was nothing short of a miracle for her. And for that kindness to come from the Dark Brotherhood of all people? These murderers and cutthroats had treated her far better than any so called "upstanding citizen."

"It's just 300 septims, nothing but a pittance compared to what you'll be earning if you do well here," Gabriella said back, looking a bit puzzled at Arbelle's reaction.

"Not the gold, just . . . this. All this. This opportunity. This home you've given me. Gabriella, I owe you everything. Truly," Arbelle confessed, sincerely as she could possibly muster.

Gabriella looked a bit stunned, for she hadn't expected such a vocal outburst. She took a short moment before replying, leaving Arbelle a bit worried. Had she taken it the wrong way?

"Really, you couldn't possibly understand what this means to me, I—."

"But I do understand," Gabriella said, interrupting her initiate. "I understand more than you could ever know. We're far more similar than you realize, sister."

Gabriella's response was vague, yet telling at the same time. Gabriella's comforting smile was absent, instead replaced with a prolonged, unfocused stare, as if she had been reminded of something deeply troubling. Arbelle's words had triggered something within her, but what? Arbelle found herself wanting to know more, but Gabriella had other matters on her mind.

"Your debt is to the Dark Brotherhood, not to me, sister. The best way you can repay that debt is by sending as many souls to Sithis as you can."

Arbelle could tell there was something Gabriella wasn't telling her, but she wasn't going to push. Not yet anyway. Gabriella hadn't saved her just to gain a new initiate that was certain.

"Now, lest we grow sentimental, we have business to discuss. It's time for your first real contract, a true test of your skills. This one will be more a challenge than simply scorching an old, pathetic drunk in the middle of the street. I hope you're ready, sister," Gabriella said, looking quite serious now.

"Anything you require, Mistress. Whatever the deed is, it will be done," Arbelle said with a new found confidence.

"Very well. I won't lie, this is going to be a bit tricky, but I have full confidence in your abilities. The target is a horse thief by the name of Louis Letrush who stole Frost, Maven Black-Briar's most prized stallion."

"Maven Black-Briar?" Arbelle repeated in astonishment, for of course she knew the name very well.

Gabriella only nodded. "Normally we don't reveal the identity of our clients, but Maven has an arrangement with us that's rather permanent. You could say she's our best customer," Gabriella said, her witty smile finally returning. "A woman like Maven is in a powerful, yet precarious position. If it gets out people can steal from her and get away with it, well, that spells disaster for her. And, of course, the horse is of great value."

"I see," Arbelle said, trying to keep herself contained. "How dangerous is Letrush?"

"Combat-wise? Not very, but be warned, he's an exceptionally devious man, and there's another complication. His location is unknown, which means you'll have to track him down. After Frost's theft, he disappeared from Riften and has gone into hiding."

"So how am I supposed to find him?"

"You'll have to do some detective work, sister. Before fleeing Riften, Louis stayed a bar in Riften called the Bee and Barb, which I imagine you're familiar with. Go there, ask around the bar. See if you can figure out where he went. The Ragged Flagon may also be worth investigating, simply because of all the information that passes through there," Gabriella instructed, knowing this would be a challenging assignment, but hardly impossible.

"You want me to go back to Riften? That damnable place?" Arbelle sighed, clearly dismayed at the news. "And here I thought you liked me."

"I know the location brings up bad memories, but going to places you don't want to go is part of the job at times. Besides, the Dark Brotherhood and the Thieves Guild have a standing relationship. Those fools can't look down on you any longer. Besides, look at this way, you're an agent of Maven Black-Briar's will. They'll be forced to help you in any way they can. Now you hold power over them."

Arbelle had to admit, that did sound rather appealing. Her most spiteful, hateful desires were finally coming to the surface.

"Alright, fine. Anything else?"

"Yes, actually. Sometimes, a contract will have certain bonus conditions. If you meet them, you'll earn yourself an extra reward. This is one of those contracts. Obviously, Maven wants her horse returned to her. If you can manage to both end Letrush and secure Frost, you'll receive a bonus to your pay."

"What kind of bonus?" Arbelle asked, her curiosity peaked.

"In addition to your pay, bonuses tend to be powerful artifacts or weapons. I'll find something special, just for you, provided you meet the conditions, of course," Gabriella smiled, knowing full well of Arbelle's magical pursuits. "Trust me, it's not something you'd want to pass up. Bonuses are almost always worth the hassle. Now, Maven isn't the type of person to be kept waiting, so I suggest you leave sooner rather than later."

Arbelle was a bit upset that she had to hurry out of her new home almost as quickly as she came in, but she knew better than to complain. The sanctuary wasn't going anywhere.

"Alright, I'll leave as soon as I'm able."

"That's what I like to hear, sister. One more thing before you go," Gabriella said, rising to her feet and walking away for a moment, fetching an item essential to any self-respecting Dark Brotherhood agent.

Gabriella soon returned carrying with her a finely crafted, enchanted garment. Powerful, wicked, and black as the Void.

"A parting gift, from me to you. Shrouded robes fo the Dark Brotherhood. You'll find your destruction spells considerably easier to cast while wearing them," Gabriella explained placing the cloth in front of Arbelle. "I wouldn't wear them in broad daylight, however. Might attract the wrong kind of attention, which is any kind, really."

"I won't disappoint you, Mistress. Louis Letrush is as good as dead. I swear it," Arbelle claimed, finding more conviction running through her than ever before.

"I have not a shred of doubt in my heart, sister." Gabriella said, looking upon her initiate with an unmistakable sense of pride.

Already, she could tell this young mage was destined for great things. Wicked things, but great things nonetheless.

"Go now, and may Sithis's whisper be upon you, sister."


End file.
